At exactly 10:00 AM, Haruka clapped his hands once.
The sound cut through the workshop, pulling everyone's attention away from the Monopoly board where Tojo had just declared bankruptcy for the second time.
"Alright," Haruka said. "Time to go."
The room shifted instantly. The lightness of the past hour evaporated, replaced by something sharper. Focus. Purpose.
Daichi stood from where he'd been leaning against the wall, pulling his driving gloves tighter. Haruka grabbed his phone from the workbench, double-checked the route one last time, then pocketed it.
"Everyone else stays here," Haruka said, looking around the room. "Lock up when you leave. Don't touch anything. And for the love of—" he glanced at the twins, "—don't break anything."
"We won't!" Hojo protested.
"We're playing Monopoly," Tojo added. "What could we possibly break?"
"I don't want to find out," Haruka replied.
Rin stood, moving toward the main shutter. "I'll get the door."
He hit the button, and the shutter began its slow mechanical groan upward, sunlight spilling across the workshop floor in a widening stripe. The street beyond was quiet, a few parked cars, a cyclist passing by, the distant hum of the city settling into its late-morning rhythm.
Daichi walked toward the EK9, circling it one final time. His hand brushed the roof lightly, almost reverently, before he opened the driver's door and slid inside. The racing seat wrapped around him immediately, bolstered and snug, designed for a body in motion. He adjusted the harness, clicked it into place, and rested both hands on the steering wheel.
The wheel was smaller than a street car's, wrapped in Alcantara, worn smooth in places from use. It felt right.
Haruka climbed into the passenger seat, pulling the door shut with a solid thunk. The interior was stripped. no rear seats, no carpet, just bare metal, a roll cage, and the faint smell of race fuel and rubber. He pulled out his phone and opened the navigation app.
"Route's locked in," Haruka said. "Chiba. One hour forty minutes if traffic stays light."
Daichi nodded once, hand moving to the ignition.
He turned the key.
The engine fired instantly. a sharp, crisp bark that settled into a high-strung idle. The sound was unmistakable, mechanical and alive, the kind of noise that didn't belong on public roads but existed there anyway.
Everyone still inside the workshop turned toward the car.
Even the twins paused their game.
Daichi let the engine warm for a few seconds, eyes scanning the gauges. Oil pressure rising. Water temperature climbing slowly. Everything nominal.
"Ready?" Haruka asked.
"Ready," Daichi replied.
He eased the clutch out, and the EK9 rolled forward smoothly, tires crunching softly over the workshop floor. It crept toward the open shutter, sunlight washing over the hood, and then it was outside.
Daichi stopped briefly, letting a delivery truck pass, then turned left onto the street.
The EK9 accelerated gently, engine note climbing but controlled, blending into the ambient noise of the city. Within seconds, it disappeared around the corner, taillights fading from view.
Rin hit the button, and the shutter began its descent.
Inside the workshop, silence lingered for a moment.
Then Tojo picked up the dice. "Alright. Where were we?"
"You were bankrupt," Hojo replied.
"I'm making a comeback."
The game resumed.
Meanwhile inside the Black Mercedes-Benz W204 C63 AMG
Hayato straightened in his seat the moment he heard the engine.
That sound. high-pitched, aggressive, unmistakably tuned, cut through the quiet morning like a blade. His hand went to the binoculars instinctively, bringing them up to his eyes just as the workshop shutter finished its slow climb.
"Movement," he said quietly.
Daiki leaned forward, eyes locked on the building across the street.
A car rolled out. White. Hatchback. Low. Modified.
But the decals were gone. The numbers were covered. It looked… different. Cleaner. More subdued.
Hayato frowned. "Is that it?"
Daiki pulled out the photo from the folder, comparing. Same shape. Same ride height. Same wheels.
"Could be," Daiki said slowly. "But it's wrapped. Stickers are covered."
"Customer car?" Hayato suggested.
"Maybe," Daiki replied. "Or maybe they're hiding it."
The white Civic turned left, engine note fading as it accelerated down the street.
Hayato lowered the binoculars, hand hovering over the ignition. "Do we follow?"
Daiki stared after the disappearing car, jaw tight. Akagi's orders had been clear: If you see the white Civic EK9 leaving the workshop, follow it.
But this car didn't look like a race car anymore. Not obviously. It could be a customer's weekend track build. It could be unrelated entirely.
Or it could be exactly what they were waiting for.
"Follow," Daiki said finally.
Hayato didn't hesitate. He started the Mercedes, the V8 rumbling to life with a deep, controlled growl. He pulled out smoothly, no rush, no sudden movements. Just another car merging into traffic.
The white Civic was two blocks ahead now, stopped at a red light.
Perfect.
Hayato eased into the lane three cars back, keeping a sedan and a small delivery van between them. Close enough to track. Far enough not to be obvious.
The light turned green.
The Civic moved forward, smooth and controlled, not aggressive, not drawing attention. It turned right at the next intersection, heading toward the main road.
Hayato followed.
Inside the EK9, Daichi shifted into third as they merged onto a wider street, the engine responding instantly, eager but restrained. The car felt tight, focused, every input translated directly into motion. It was strange driving it like this. below the limit, playing by street rules, pretending it was normal.
But it worked.
"Traffic's light," Haruka observed, eyes on his phone. "Friday morning, everyone's either at work or staying home for the weekend."
"Good," Daichi replied. "Less attention."
They passed a convenience store, a small ramen shop, a row of parked bicycles. The city moved around them in its usual rhythm, pedestrians crossing at lights, delivery trucks double-parked, a bus stopping to pick up passengers.
Nothing unusual.
Nothing threatening.
Daichi checked the mirrors reflexively. A black Mercedes a few cars back. A silver sedan beside it. A white van in the next lane. Normal traffic. Normal patterns.
He returned his focus to the road.
"Next turn in two hundred meters," Haruka said, reading from the phone. "Left at the signal."
"Got it."
The EK9 hummed through the intersection, suspension absorbing the slight unevenness of the pavement with barely a complaint. The steering was sharp, responsive, twitching slightly in Daichi's hands as the alignment geometry fought against road camber.
It wanted to go faster.
But not yet.
"How long to the expressway entrance?" Daichi asked.
Haruka checked the map. "About fifteen minutes at this pace. Once we're on the Shuto, it's a straight shot."
Daichi nodded, easing the car through another turn. A cyclist veered close, and he gave them space, patient, controlled. This wasn't a race. This was a delivery.
Behind them, unnoticed, the black Mercedes followed at a careful distance.
"Still on them," Hayato said quietly, eyes locked on the white Civic three cars ahead.
Daiki watched through the passenger window, tracking side streets, memorizing landmarks. "They're heading toward the expressway."
"Think they're leaving the city?"
"Looks like it."
Hayato kept his speed steady, matching the flow of traffic. The Mercedes blended in perfectly, just another expensive car in a city full of them. No one looked twice.
The white Civic signaled left, merging smoothly.
Hayato followed, maintaining the gap.
"If they get on the Shuto," Daiki said, "we'll have to close the distance. Highways are harder to tail without being obvious."
"I know," Hayato replied.
He checked the fuel gauge. Three-quarters full. Plenty.
"What do we do when they stop?" Daiki asked.
"We document," Hayato said. "Where they go. Who they meet. How long they stay. Then we report to Akagi."
Daiki nodded, pulling out his phone. He snapped a photo of the white Civic ahead. distant, slightly blurred, but clear enough.
Evidence.
The traffic light ahead turned yellow.
The Civic slowed, stopping smoothly.
Hayato stopped two cars back, engine idling quietly.
Inside the EK9, Daichi drummed his fingers once against the steering wheel, waiting. Haruka scrolled through his phone, checking messages.
Neither of them glanced back.
Neither of them noticed the black Mercedes sitting patiently in the traffic behind them.
The red light held them at the intersection, the EK9 idling with that distinctive racing idle. slightly lumpy, eager, like a dog straining against a leash. Daichi kept his foot on the clutch, left hand resting on the gear lever, eyes scanning the intersection out of habit.
Haruka glanced at his phone, then at Daichi. "There's something I need to tell you."
Daichi didn't take his eyes off the road. "Go ahead."
"Tsukuba. Round 3."
"What about it?"
Haruka hesitated, just for a second. "The format changed."
That got Daichi's attention. He turned his head slightly. "Changed how?"
"It's not a sprint race anymore," Haruka said. "The series organizers sent an email yesterday. They're making it an endurance race. 6 hours."
Daichi's eyebrows lifted. "6 hours? At Tsukuba?"
"Yeah."
"That's… unusual."
"They're calling it an experiment," Haruka continued. "Trying to spice things up. Test driver endurance, strategy, pit stops. The whole package."
Daichi processed this, eyes returning to the road ahead. The light was still red. Traffic sat motionless around them, engines humming, the city pausing for breath.
"How many drivers per car?" Daichi asked.
"Minimum two. Maximum three."
Daichi nodded slowly, understanding where this was going. "And you want me to drive."
It wasn't a question.
Haruka looked at him directly now. "With Izamuri. Two-driver lineup. You and him."
Daichi didn't respond immediately. His fingers drummed once against the steering wheel, a quiet rhythm of thought. Six hours. Tsukuba Circuit. Two kilometers of tight, technical corners. No long straights to rest. No room for error. It would be brutal.
But it would also be… something else.
Real racing.
"When do you need an answer?" Daichi asked.
"Now would be good," Haruka replied. "We're a month out. If you say no, I need to find someone else. Rin, maybe. Or Takamori."
Daichi glanced at the light. Still red.
He thought about Izamuri. Young. Raw. Fast. But inexperienced in endurance strategy. In tire management. In the mental endurance required to stay sharp for six hours straight when every lap mattered.
He thought about himself. Older. Slower, maybe. But experienced. Decades of racing burned into muscle memory. He knew how to pace. How to preserve equipment. How to think three stints ahead while driving the current one.
Together?
It could work.
"What's the pit stop structure?" Daichi asked.
"Minimum two stops for fuel," Haruka said. "Driver changes mandatory. Tire changes optional but recommended."
"Strategy?"
"Open. Teams decide their own stints, their own tire allocation."
Daichi nodded, the pieces falling into place in his mind. "And you think Izamuri's ready for this?"
Haruka met his gaze. "I think he needs this. And I think having you in the car with him will teach him more than a hundred practice sessions ever could."
The light turned green.
Daichi eased the clutch out, the EK9 rolling forward smoothly. He shifted into second, then third, the engine climbing through its rev range with precision.
"Alright," Daichi said finally. "I'll do it."
Haruka let out a breath he didn't know he'd been holding. "Yeah?"
"Yeah."
"You're sure?"
Daichi smiled faintly, eyes still on the road. "Haruka, I haven't driven a proper endurance race in years. You're giving me an excuse to get back in a car that actually matters, with a driver who actually cares, in a series that's actually competitive." He paused. "Why wouldn't I say yes?"
Haruka laughed quietly, relief and excitement mixing together. "Fair point."
They merged into a busier street now, the city thickening around them. More pedestrians, more shops, more movement. The EK9 wove through it smoothly, Daichi's hands light on the wheel, inputs minimal but precise.
"Does Izamuri know yet?" Daichi asked.
"I told him last night," Haruka said. "But I hadn't asked you officially. Wanted to do that in person."
"And what did he say?"
"He looked terrified and excited at the same time."
Daichi chuckled. "That sounds about right."
They passed a small park where children played on swings, a convenience store with its door propped open, a row of vending machines glowing against a concrete wall. Normal. Mundane. The kind of Tokyo morning that existed in every neighborhood, unremarkable and endless.
"We'll need to plan the stints," Daichi said, already thinking ahead. "Driver rotations, fuel windows, tire strategy. Six hours is long enough that mistakes compound."
"I know," Haruka said. "We'll sit down next week and map it out. All of us. You, me, Izamuri, Takamori for the data analysis."
Daichi nodded. "Good."
Another intersection approached, the light turning yellow as they neared. Daichi braked smoothly, the EK9's racing brakes biting hard, bringing them to a controlled stop. The car settled on its suspension, engine dropping back to idle.
Haruka checked his phone. "Still on schedule. Expressway entrance is about eight minutes from here."
"Traffic's cooperating," Daichi observed.
"For now."
They sat in comfortable silence for a moment, the EK9 humming quietly beneath them. Around them, the city moved, a taxi merged lanes, a delivery truck rumbled past, a cyclist weaved through stopped cars toward the front of the intersection.
And behind them, three cars back, a black Mercedes-Benz W204 C63 AMG sat waiting.
Daichi's eyes flicked to the rearview mirror.
Not consciously. Not with intent. Just habit. The automatic scan every driver did at every stop. check left, check right, check behind. Clear the blind spots. Know your surroundings.
His gaze landed on the Mercedes.
Black. Tinted windows. Expensive. Clean.
Nothing unusual about that. Tokyo was full of expensive black cars with tinted windows.
But something about it…
Daichi's eyes stayed on the mirror a half-second longer.
The Mercedes sat perfectly centered in its lane. Not creeping forward. Not drifting. Just… still. Disciplined.
The kind of still that came from training, not coincidence.
Daichi's fingers tightened slightly on the steering wheel.
"Haruka," he said quietly.
"Yeah?"
"Don't turn around. Just listen."
Haruka's posture shifted slightly, his body tensing without moving. "What is it?"
"Black Mercedes," Daichi said, voice calm, almost casual. "Three cars back. C63, I think. Tinted windows."
Haruka's eyes dropped to his side mirror, adjusting the angle slightly without turning his head. He found the car immediately.
"I see it," Haruka said quietly.
"How long has it been there?" Daichi asked.
Haruka thought back, replaying the route in his mind. "I don't know. I wasn't paying attention."
"Neither was I," Daichi admitted. "But I'm paying attention now."
The light stayed red. Seconds stretched.
"Could be nothing," Haruka said.
"Could be."
"Lots of black Mercedes in Tokyo."
"Lots," Daichi agreed.
But his eyes didn't leave the mirror.
The Mercedes sat motionless. Two silhouettes visible in the front seats. Driver and passenger. Both facing forward. Neither moving.
"What are you thinking?" Haruka asked.
Daichi's jaw tightened slightly. "I'm thinking that car has been following us since we left the workshop."
"You sure?"
"No," Daichi said honestly. "But my gut says yes."
Haruka's hand moved to his phone, thumb hovering over the screen. "You want me to call someone?"
"Not yet."
"Then what do we do?"
Daichi didn't answer immediately. His mind was working, running through scenarios, probabilities, options. They were still in surface streets, surrounded by traffic, pedestrians, witnesses. Nothing could happen here. Not directly.
But once they hit the expressway?
Open road. Higher speeds. Fewer witnesses.
That's when things could get complicated.
"We stay calm," Daichi said finally. "We don't do anything sudden. We don't give them a reason to escalate."
"And if they follow us onto the Shuto?" Haruka asked.
"Then we know for sure," Daichi replied.
The light turned green.
Daichi eased the clutch out, the EK9 rolling forward with the flow of traffic. Smooth. Controlled. Nothing unusual. Just another car heading somewhere.
In the rearview mirror, the black Mercedes followed.
Maintaining distance. Maintaining position.
Professional.
Haruka's fingers drummed nervously against his thigh. "Could be Akagi."
"Could be," Daichi said.
"Could be coincidence."
"Could be."
"But you don't think so."
Daichi's eyes flicked between the road ahead and the mirror behind. "No. I don't."
They passed a bus stop, a small restaurant, a parking lot half-filled with weekend shoppers. The city continued around them, oblivious. A woman walked her dog. A student rode past on a bicycle, backpack bouncing. Life, ordinary and endless.
And somewhere behind them, invisible but present, the Mercedes followed.
"What's our move?" Haruka asked quietly.
Daichi's hands stayed light on the wheel, his expression unchanged. Decades of racing had taught him one thing above all else: panic was the enemy. Speed without control was suicide. The moment you let emotion dictate action, you lost.
So he stayed calm.
Thought.
Calculated.
"We keep driving," Daichi said. "Exactly as planned. We take the expressway entrance in seven minutes. We merge onto the Shuto. We drive to Hugo's base."
"And if they're still following us?"
"Then we deal with it," Daichi said simply.
Haruka exhaled slowly. "Deal with it how?"
Daichi didn't answer.
Because he didn't know yet.
Another intersection approached. The light was green. Daichi maintained speed, shifting smoothly through fourth gear, the engine singing its controlled song.
The Mercedes stayed behind them.
Three cars back.
Always three cars back.
Never closer.
Never farther.
Haruka checked his phone, thumb scrolling to Hugo's contact. "Should I warn him?"
"Not yet," Daichi said. "Not until we're sure."
"And when will we be sure?"
"When they follow us onto the expressway," Daichi replied. "That's the tell. Surface streets? Could be coincidence. Same route? Plausible. But the expressway to Chiba? That's specific. That's intent."
Haruka nodded slowly, pocketing his phone. "Five minutes to the entrance."
"Good."
They drove in silence now, the comfortable conversation from earlier replaced by tense awareness. Every turn, every lane change, every adjustment—Daichi watched the Mercedes in his mirror.
And the Mercedes watched back.
Two cars. Two drivers. One city.
And a question hanging in the air between them, unanswered and growing heavier with every passing block. What happens when they reach the expressway?
Daichi's fingers tightened once more on the wheel.
Then relaxed.
He didn't have an answer yet.
But he would.
Soon.
The next intersection came up fast. a narrow side street branching left, barely wide enough for two cars. Most drivers would stay straight, following the main road toward the expressway.
Daichi turned left.
Sharp. Deliberate.
The EK9 rotated cleanly, suspension compressing and releasing, tires gripping hard. Haruka grabbed the door handle instinctively, phone nearly slipping from his other hand.
"What are you—"
"Testing," Daichi said simply.
His eyes locked on the rearview mirror.
The black Mercedes hesitated for half a second. just long enough to suggest surprise. then followed, turning left smoothly, maintaining the same three-car gap.
Haruka understood immediately. "You're checking."
"Yeah."
They drove down the narrow street, passing residential buildings, a small shrine tucked between houses, a row of vending machines glowing against a wall. The EK9's exhaust note bounced off the close walls, amplified, suddenly louder.
Another intersection ahead.
Daichi turned left again.
No signal. No warning.
The EK9 carved through the turn with racing precision, weight transferring smoothly, the suspension geometry doing exactly what it was designed to do. They were now perpendicular to their original route, heading in a completely different direction from Hugo's base.
Haruka's eyes went to his side mirror.
The Mercedes followed.
"Still there," Haruka said quietly.
"I know."
One more intersection. One more left turn.
This time Daichi signaled. casual, normal, like any driver making their way through the neighborhood. The EK9 turned left for the third time, completing three-quarters of a square.
The Mercedes followed again.
Daichi's jaw tightened.
"That's not coincidence," Haruka said.
"No," Daichi agreed, voice cold now. "It's not."